


Moments 1: Captain & Secrets

by Phynoma



Series: The In-Between [2]
Category: Pillars of Eternity
Genre: Awkward Romance, Background Relationships, Bisexuality, Canon Bisexual Character, Character Development, Drabble, Elves, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gay, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Second-Hand Embarrassment, Secrets, Sexuality, Short & Sweet, rogues - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27763195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phynoma/pseuds/Phynoma
Summary: A couple of drabbles focusing on Watcher Mirad in the Deadfire. Features a taste of Xoti/Maneha (because I love her and wanted more of her in Pillars II). Chapter 1 is Mirad waking aboard The Defiant, and some good bro times with Eder; Chapter 2 is Maneha & Xoti, some flirting and gayness, Aloth fixes some clothing, Mirad has a moment.
Relationships: Aloth Corfiser/Male Watcher, Aloth Corfiser/The Watcher, Edér Teylecg & The Watcher, Serafen & The Watcher (Pillars of Eternity), The Watcher & Xoti (Pillars of Eternity), Xoti/Maneha
Series: The In-Between [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1980169
Kudos: 7





	1. Captain Mirad

**Author's Note:**

> Confession time: I didn't bother to do a recap of Pillars 1 or 2, since I figure anyone reading the fics has played the game and I figured no one wanted to reread the entirety of the game's dialogue just to see my Watcher's place in it. So I jumped right in where I was at, post-games and with Aloth & Mirad fully besotted and past the pining phase. 
> 
> But of course, pining is fun. Had I thought about it, I would have thrown a little bit more in to start with, along with some tidbits of Mirad just being Mirad. Being new to this whole posting fanfic thing, I didn't even think about how no one has any reason to care about him because no one but my lovely self has experienced this particular disaster child. Therefore, here are some innocent little drabbles about my Rauataian Watcher elf rogue, and I'll be back to the main stuff soon. Kudos and comments always appreciated!

Mirad stumbled to his feet, catching his balance on the tightly fitted wall planks. He felt empty, bereft. He kept checking all his limbs, but they were all there. He swallowed back the wail that threatened to overwhelm him, the urge to curl into a ball and wait for the pain to pass. Edér caught his arm. 

“You alright there, Watcher? Don’t go faintin’ on me again.”

“Fine,” Mirad wheezed. How could he explain it? _I feel like I’ve been torn in half. No, don’t worry, I’m just missing part of my soul._ He took a few deep breaths until he was sure he wasn’t going to vomit. “Let’s go.”

He lurched at the sight of the steward’s severed bust, a deep, aching pain spreading through his chest. _Three hundred and eleven dead._ No. No time to think about it now. He leaned against Edér as they made their way into the narrow landing where the stairs led to the maindeck. Rain lashed down into the hold, salt stinging his nose. He pulled his hood up, squinting at the sailors who hurdled by them on their way to batten down the hatches or on-deck to pull in the sails. 

“Doozy of a storm, Captain!” one yelled, nodding to them. Mirad got a flash of a straggly gray beard and yellowed teeth before the man disappeared into the hold. The ship dropped over a swell and Mirad flung his hand out to catch himself just as a dark-skinned woman with rope burns on her arms came dashing up. She caught his arm, steadying them both.

“Thanks,” he shouted, hoarse and not sure she could hear him over the storm. She gave the two men a nod and then continued on her way, navigating the rain-slicked planks with ease. 

“C’mon, don’t have time to lose,” Edér shouted in his ear. Mirad nodded. 

“Good to see you up, Captain!” an beige-furred orlan greeted as they emerged, and then a thickset dwarf shoved a feathered hat into Mirad’s hands. 

“There ya are, Capt'n. Ship approachin’ on the starboard gunnel,” he said, clapping a hand on his arm and pointing towards it. A streak of lightning backlit the enemy’s sails. 

“Uh, thanks—”

“Beodul, Capt’n. Do us proud.” The dwarf gave him a sharp once-over, nodded, and dashed back off into the storm. Mirad shoved the hat on his head and pulled his hood back over it. 

“Captain?!” he hissed at Edér. “ _I’m_ the Captain?”

“Who else?” Edér yelled back, guiding him towards the starboard gunwale. 

“I don’t know, _you_ , maybe? Or you could have hired someone when you recruited the crew? Edér, I don’t know anything about running a ship!”

“I thought you grew up here!” Edér said, eyeing the enemy ship with a frown.

“That was decades ago! And I _sailed_ , I never captained an entire vessel—”

“You’re the highest ranking here, class-wise, and you paid for the ship,” Edér interrupted. “Technically. I mean, I paid for it, but I used what we could find of your treasury, so it’s your ship. An’ right now, we just need you to be all leader-y, so go on!” He gave Mirad a shove and the elf stumbled forward to catch himself on the railing. 

“Fine,” he said to himself through gritted teeth. He cast his mind back to sailing lessons with his father and elder brothers, trying to remember the particularities of parley—fuck it, the rules had probably changed by now, anyway. 

Gangplanks were shoved between the enemy ship and theirs. Mirad backed up, and was joined at either side by Edér and the dark-skinned woman he had seen earlier—Atua, she introduced herself with a quick handshake. There was another flash of lightening that highlighted a tall man with greasy yellow hair and tallow-like skin as he swaggered up to the gangplanks, flanked by three officers. A bellow went up from the enemy ship, jeers and catcalls, and the Watcher’s crew responded in kind. 

Shit. “What’s the name of the ship? Our-my ship, I mean,” Mirad hissed to Atua. 

“ _The Defiant_ ,” she replied without looking at him. 

“Thanks.” He cleared his throat and, seeing the skeptical tilt to her brows, gave her a wink. “Don’t worry, I’ve _definitely_ got this.”

Atua sighed and muttered something under her breath that was thankfully lost to the wind. The enemy Captain—Benwith, Mirad was informed by the shouts coming from the pirate vessel—and his entourage halted at the railing of their ship, just out of striking range but close enough to talk at a shout. 

Mirad straightened his back and crossed his arms. The yellow-haired man leered at him. He sported a scar that split his face through his lips and cheek. Mirad resisted the urge to rub one of the many decorations on his own face, unimpressed. 

“Well, what have we here?” Benwith asked with mock civility. His tone was sure and patronizing, and it set Mirad’s teeth on edge. “A little sloop—lost and alone in the storm. I’ll be taking your ship now, if you don’t mind. And especially if you do.” 

Mirad didn’t like the smile on the man’s face—slow and deadly, like a poison.

“Well, at least he asked,” Edér muttered darkly. 

“I am a gentleman of fortune,” the pirate continued, the same nasty grin still on his face. _Sadistic_ , that’s what it was. “Give her up easy, and I’ll see you get a swift death. It’ll be bloody and agonizing, sure.” He gestured flippantly. “But at least it’d be quick.”

Anger roiled through Mirad so suddenly he actually saw red at the corners of his vision. He hadn’t half-died in the ruins of his keep, dealt with Berath’s threats and insinuations in the afterlife, and then come back from the In-Between to find himself half-souled on a ship in the middle of a storm just to have the crew— _his_ crew—murdered in front of his eyes. 

Edér felt him shift and glanced at him, saw the fire flash through his eyes, watched the long, scar-twisted smile spread across his face. The Watcher hadn’t lost his pallor, but his expression was fey. It was that sort of look that made decent folk step back and set elf-wards around their doorways. Edér was glad, not for the first time, that he was on the Watcher’s side. 

The Watcher relaxed, one hand dropping down to rest on the hilt of his rapier. It was a fencer’s stance, easy but pointed. He appeared nonthreatening now, but Edér had seen how quickly Mirad could move.

“The storm’s pretty loud,” the Watcher called, voice melting into a sickly-sweet Rauataian drawl. “Did you say you’re surrendering? How strange.”

Atua gave him a surprised glance. Edér felt a surge of pride for his Watcher. 

“And then he’s gonna wear his breeches on his head and dance for us?” Edér chortled, folding his arms. “Is that what he said?”

The Benwith’s sneer faltered a bit at the edges, but he barked out a laugh. “Aye, but the breeches are going to be stitched from your skin.” He turned back to Mirad. “You got a smart mouth on ye,” he snarled. “Watch out—that’ll get you killed quicker than any blade.”

“Not yet it hasn’t,” Mirad muttered out of the side of his mouth to Edér, who chuckled again. The pirate looked irritated at the interruption and addressed his crew next, apparently finding that more dignified than talking to this disrespectful captain. 

“I’m off to spear me a bigger fish. One with sharper teeth, like. I’m trusting you lot not to cock this up. DON’T damage the sloop when you take it. Play with the crew if you’d like, but don’t bring me any prisoners. None that’re alive.” 

He turned and strolled back towards his quarters while half a dozen of his crew leapt over the railing with howls of savage glee. The rest of the pirates pulled away with efficient speed, leaving their mates behind to take the sloop. Mirad’s rapier emerged with a flash of lightening-bright steel.

“Guess we’re doing this,” he said affably. He side-stepped so he and Edér were back-to-back with so natural a movement it seemed as if no time had passed since their last fight together. 

“Glad you’re back, Watcher,” Edér said with quick grin. 

“Me too.” Mirad flipped his dagger out of its sheath and turned his burning gaze on the first of the pirates, whose bloodthirsty shriek came to a startled stop. “Now, let’s save my ship.”


	2. Secrets

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were anything like me playing Pillars, especially if you were trying to romance Aloth, then your Watcher got hit on by just about every single member of your crew while you were waiting for the damn elf to pull himself together. So this is a drabble based on that, and also a chance for me to set Xoti up with someone who she deserves/deserves her.

“Look,” Maneha said, stretching so the bright sunlight sparkled off of her skin and her countless bangles, “I’m observant. It’s my job. And I’m _really_ good at noticing people with secrets, especially the ones they want taken off their hands.” 

They were sitting on the deck amid stacks of drying rope coils, enjoying the sun and the temporary rest. Mirad had offered to bring the aumaua woman to Neketaka on their way back from Dunnage, and she had, to his surprise and delight, agreed. She immediately took to Xoti, started a brawl with Serafen, and gained the grudging respect of Beodul for her skill at skewering a rat with a dagger at five paces.

“Good at secrets. Is that right?” Xoti asked, eyes flicking across the deck to the Watcher with just the barest hint of guilt. Maneha gave her a toothy grin. 

“Yup, sure is. Which is why I can tell you right now _that’s_ never gonna happen.”

“Why not? I mean, what are ya talking about?” Xoti went ruddy, then sighed. “Oh bullhonky, is it really that obvious?”

“I’m good at noticing, remember? But yeah, it’s pretty obvious,” Maneha patted her knee. “Look, I get it. He’s kind, worldly, attentive, blah blah blah. Hel, I think half the crew has a notion for him, so don’t feel bad. But hey: you’re cute and clever and you’ve got a dedication I admire, even if it’s for the wrong god, so don’t sell yourself short.” Maneha gave her a wink. “It’s not your fault for liking him as much as it’s anyone’s fault for taking an interest in another person. But you’re doomed down that road for two reasons. One: the Watcher’s ‘bout as likely to fall for someone like _you_ as I am to fall for someone like _him_ , and Two: he’s already taken, and has been for years.”

“No way,” Xoti protested, distracted from point one by point two. “I asked him, and he said he ain’t got anyone back home, and I know for a fact he ain’t got anyone here.”

Maneha raised her eyebrows. “You asked him? Hel, girl, you’ve got some guts after all. But I hate to tell ya; he was lying. Oh, not on purpose.” She waved her hand with a smirk. “He’s just an idiot. Comes with the territory, I think.”

Xoti frowned and planted a hand on her hip. “I’m not followin.”

Maneha crossed her legs and leaned back against the gunwale. “You drink?”

“Um, sure I do,” Xoti said, taken aback by this sudden turn in the conversation. “Why?”

“Just wonderin’ if you’d want to get a drink when we hit land again.” Maneha gave her another toothy grin. “I know a good spot near the Serpent with ale that doesn’t taste like shit.”

“Sounds like a good change,” Xoti said, then blushed again. “What does that have to do with…?”

“Nothin,” the aumaua admitted. “Just figured I’d better jump at the chance while I had it. Which brings us back to what I said before.” She stretched again, languid. “I never bothered with the Watcher cuz while he’s good enough people, he’s not what interests me. An’ for whatever reason, kith like to be secret about what interests them, _especially_ other kith. So I notice it, naturally. It’s like a little compass in my head, those secrets about what people want, what they like. Serafen, for example, is interested in anything that moves, and Tekehu is about the same, as long as it compliments his hair.” She rolled her eyes. “Those two broke the goddamn mold. Me, on the other hand? I’m never gonna settle for anyone soft and docile, no matter how nice she fits in my hands.”

“Oh,” Xoti said, noticing the pronoun and blushing again. “So when you said you’d never fall for someone like _him_ , you meant—”

“An elf,” Maneha said, then cracked herself up. “Nah, you’re right, sweetie. He’s nice enough, but he’s such a _man_ , isn’t he?”

“I guess?” Xoti allowed herself to squint across the deck to where Mirad was coiling rope and laughing with Chitupec. “I just think of him as the Watcher. And, well, I guess sometimes that’s all I think about…and I hadn’t really thought he might not…” she trailed off, looking guilty again. 

“See, that’s what I’m sayin,” Maneha nodded approvingly, delighted by Xoti’s observation. “That’s why kith find him so charming. He always treats you like he’s delighted to see _you_ , don’t he? And I’m sure he is. But when it comes to certain things, he does have preferences. At least one.”

“Like what?” Xoti challenged. 

Maneha grinned, showing sharp teeth. “Watch.” She cleared her throat, having spotted their resident wizard emerging from belowdecks with his head buried in his grimoire. “Hey, Aloth!” 

The elf started, looking around at them. 

“Yes?” he asked testily, once he saw who had hailed him.

“C’mere, I need your help with something.” 

Xoti scrunched her eyebrows at the aumaua woman. “What’re you doin?” she whispered frantically. “He’s the last person who you should ask about this stuff. He probably thinks it’s beneath him, and—what if he gets embarrassed and he turns you into a toad or somethin?”

“Shhh,” Maneha pushed her, giggling. “I’m not going to say anything about _that_.”

“Whatever you’re whispering about, I’m not interested,” Aloth said wearily as he approached. Maneha shielded her eyes with her hand and grinned up at him.

“Oh, we’re just discussin’ the Watcher,” she said blithely, and Xoti blushed and punched her arm. “What he likes and whatnot.”

“Judging from your faces, this is not a conversation I need to be a part of,” Aloth replied. “If it’s something you can’t just ask the Watcher about, then you probably shouldn’t know it anyway.” He gave Xoti a pointed glare for some reason and then swept around to leave. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go someplace _quiet_.”

“No, wait—I actually did need you for something,” Maneha protested, pulling her pack out from under a coil of rope and digging through it. Aloth waited with barely concealed impatience. Finally, she pulled out a bundle of blue-and-purple silk, rough-spun and shimmering. She shook it out, flinging crumbs everywhere, then bunched it up and tossed it to him. He caught it with a mixture of curiosity and alarm. 

“What is this?” he asked. Maneha shrugged.

“Just a robe I picked up in the Plains before I came out this way. Little wrinkled, but should still work well enough. S’posed to do something for defenses. I don’t need it, and figured it’d be more use to you.” 

He managed to find the shoulders to the robe and shook it out. The sleeves were long and made of a contrastingly plain linen, embroidered around the wrists. He looked it over appraisingly, then gave her a slightly softened look.

“Thank you, Maneha. I should be able to put this to good use, yes.”

“Well, try it on, then!” she encouraged, laughing when he gave her a startled look. “Just pull it over your clothes so we can see if it fits. Your armor isn’t that bulky.”

Xoti pulled out her notebook, losing interest in the proceedings. Whatever Maneha was trying to prove, it didn’t seem to be working. She might as well update her journal while she could still remember her dream from the previous night. She was vaguely aware of Aloth muttering as he examined the robes, and of the Watcher leaving his conversation with Chitupec as Serafen barreled down the ladder to the forecastle. It sounded like Serafen was challenging Mirad to a sparring session. That could be interesting. She peeked over the top of her notebook just as Mirad glanced over and saw them. He grinned and strolled their way. 

“Hey,” he greeted. “That’s nice,” he added, giving Aloth a passing nod. 

“Thank y—Maneha gave—”Aloth stumbled, and Xoti was glad she wasn’t the only one affected by the Watcher’s casual regard.

“Serafen and I are going to spar,” he announced, oblivious to Aloth’s blush behind him, “if anyone wants to join. Spar the winner, that sort of thing. Just so you know, it’ll probably be Serafen, so take that into consideration.” He gave them all another easy grin, then gave Xoti’s notebook a discerning look and bent down to speak to her in a low voice. “How ya doin, Xoti? Sleeping okay? Any more nightmares?” 

“Nah, Watcher. Right as rain,” she beamed at him, feeling her own cheeks flush. 

“Good,” he smiled back, then stood. Across the ship, she caught Serafen assessing the Watcher’s ass; he winked at her when he caught her looking. The only one who seemed unaffected was Maneha, who was observing everyone else with barely contained glee. 

“I’ll spar loser,” she said. 

“Great!” Mirad tossed his hair back and recaptured it in a half-ponytail that would keep it out of his eyes. “See you midships in a minute. I’m sure that’s all it’ll take.” 

He strode away, using the rolling gait of one accustomed to the seas even though it had only been a few months since he had fled to the Deadfire. Xoti still felt like a baby deer most days on the ship, all misplaced steps and no grace. She sighed, then glanced up and realized Aloth was also staring after the Watcher, sleeves falling over his hands like a Berathian monk. 

“Looks a little long,” Maneha commented, and he startled again. 

“What? Oh. Yes. You’re correct. I think the sleeves are ornamental, however.” He examined the embroidery around the wrists and then checked the seams at his shoulders. He seemed shaken, and kept glancing up and over at where the orlan pirate and the Watcher were _en garde_. Xoti scooched closer to Maneha, a new suspicion forming. 

“No way,” she muttered, looking between the wizard and the Watcher pointedly. Maneha only snickered. “But the Watcher doesn’t…does he?”

Maneha raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything. Xoti’s musings were interrupted by a tearing sound. 

“Well, that’s going to make it cold,” Maneha said as Aloth dropped one of the sleeves to the deck and examined the remaining seam on the robe itself. 

“Enchantment intact,” he said to himself, then gave her a quick look. “It’s silk, Maneha. It was never intended for warmth. And this is far more practical for these climates anyway.” He caught one of the seams on the other sleeve with the point of his dagger, loosening the threads before tearing the second sleeve off, leaving his arms bare. He clearly had never done any real physical labor, Xoti thought critically, but he was surprisingly muscled for someone who depended on magic, not brute strength. Maybe it was carrying all those books around. 

She wasn’t the only one who had noticed. Xoti looked back over at the sparring match in time to see Mirad do a double-take over at the group, foil falling to his side, which left Serafen an opening to jab him directly in the stomach. The Watcher yelped and bent double as the orlan danced around, cackling with glee.

“Thanks for the distraction, laddie!” he called over cheerfully. Aloth looked up, blinking in incomprehension. Mirad had collapsed rather dramatically to the deck into the fetal position, face ruddy. 

“I am slain,” he proclaimed, rolling onto his back with a groan.

“Aye, I reckon you are,” Serafen nudged him with his toe, a devilish grin on his blue-furred face. He swung his foil dangerously close to the Watcher’s crotch. “Betrayed by passion, by yer own ravenous sight—”

Mirad knocked the foil away with his hand, snorting. He rolled again, blinking out of sight and appearing on his feet behind the orlan, whose foil he wrested from his hand. 

“Not fair, usin’ your magics,” Serafen complained. “And yer height difference, takin’ advantage of a poor creature like me.”

“Oh, and what do you call this?” the Watcher returned, showing a bright red welt on his arm from the cipher’s soul lash. 

“That’s the power of me own mind, Watcher, nothin’ unnatural ‘bout that.”

“Alright, alright, boys,” Maneha launched herself to her feet and strode over, towering over both of them. “I think it’s my turn to beat the Watcher into the deck.”

The action seemed to galvanize Aloth back into life. His ears went pink and he gathered up his grimoire again, muttering to himself. 

“You should probably go over and save him,” Xoti suggested, and he gave her a withering glare.

“Oh, don’t you start, too,” he snapped, and the priestess recoiled from the unexpected venom. 

“Wha—I only meant—” she stammered, but he was already stalking away.

A little annoyed and confused, Xoti turned her attention back to the sparring match, which had gained a few more spectators. Mirad was rubbing his stomach ruefully and looking Maneha up and down. “I’m regretting this idea already.”

Xoti watched appreciatively as the aumaua woman threw off her short cape, baring her formidable physique. The sun set all of her bangles and piercings to glittering, and the blue of her skin shone like the open water. She picked up a hefty, wooden broadsword and gave it a few test swings. Mirad backed away, eyes wide with apprehension. 

“Uh, Maneha…you wanna go easy on me?” he asked. “As a testament to our Rauataian sibling-hood?” he added in their language.

“Not really,” she replied in the same, and attacked. The Watcher gave a yip of surprise and caught the blow across his blade, then danced away and slipped back into the In-Between before reappearing on the other side of the deck, panting. Maneha had already turned, and he didn’t have long to catch his breath before she was rushing back at him with a terrifying yell, broadsword raised over her head. Mirad managed a dexterous back bend and a few near hits before she swept his feet out from under him. Xoti watched the resulting carnage with horrified fascination. She was so caught up watching the sun ripple over Maneha thick muscles that she completely forgot to be worried about the Watcher. 

Only when she dragged her gaze away from the aumaua (she had Mirad pinned to the deck under her foot and her sword raised over her head, crowing in victory to the grand amusement of the onlookers) did Xoti catch sight of Aloth, standing in the doorway to the upper armory in the forecastle. He was watching the match with color high in his cheeks, his grimoire pressed to his chest. Either by chance or an alarming sensitivity to being watched, he looked up and met her gaze for a moment before frowning and disappearing through the door. 

Xoti shivered and turned her attention back to the Rauataians. Her gaze lingered on the solid planes of Maneha’s stomach and the easy strength of her arms as she pulled the Watcher to his feet. He said something, cheerful but too low to be heard, and the aumaua threw back her head and laughed. The sun seemed suddenly brighter, and Xoti felt warmth curl through her body. She let out such a loud sigh that Chitupec actually glanced at her as he passed by. Yes, perhaps Maneha was right about the Watcher’s disinterest; but either way, she wouldn’t mind the aumaua teaching her more about secrets if they got the chance. 


End file.
